


karma always finds a way back to you

by hackercatz (tsunbrownie)



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Blood As Lube, Bloodplay, Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, Gun Kink, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Other, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Subspace, berserk akira, for akira. goro is getting off on this, metaverse sex pushing the boundaries of reality, persona fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:48:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22785115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsunbrownie/pseuds/hackercatz
Summary: In a desperate attempt to escape a shadow attack, Akechi drives Akira berserk using Loki's powers.This opens many doors.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Arsene, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 20
Kudos: 283





	karma always finds a way back to you

**Author's Note:**

> i finished royal! god it was a good game. i cried inside. i love you so much goro 
> 
> this is one of the horny content i said i was gonna write pre-royal and. i had it half sitting in my evernote so i dusted it off n finished it ! enjoy!

In retrospection, it's been very arrogant and naive of them to go down to Mementos by just the two of them, even without Futaba's support, to make a lower map of the twisted cognition world. Even if it had been just Joker and he, the two most talented and flexible members of the Phantom Thieves, they've found themselves surrounded without exit, their HP and SP dwindling as Joker used every available tactic in the book to find them a way out.

None of them works. The corner of Goro's sight go white, knees buckling as power seeps out of his body. Akira isn't doing any better, even with multitudes of Personas at his disposal he's struggling from dealing with the countless enemies that fill the vacant spaces of whatever they manage to defeat.

"We can't keep this up, Joker," he hisses as he adjusts the magazine of his gun—at least the ammo isn't running out thanks to the circumstances of the cognitive world, unlike his spiritual energy. "We have to escape. Somehow."

"We're surrounded, Crow, we don't exactly have an option," Akira snipes back, switching his Persona to Raphael as he dissipates a shadow with a Hamaon.

Akechi's sight goes fuzzy, and he tastes the sharp tang of iron in his mouth. "You better come up with a plan quickly, because I don't know how long I can last if we keep this up."

Akira avoids his eyes hesitantly. "I do have one, but you're not going to like it."

The tightsuit clad ex-assassin forces his sword into the ground to keep himself upright, feeling his strength slipping each passing second. "At this point, I'll take anything as long as it gets us out in one piece."

Akira chews his lips, looks down at the floor, and whispers, "I want you to drive me into rampage mode with Loki."

Out of all _idiotic ideas_ —"No," he grits out, "I can't do that, Akira."

"It'd get us out of our turmoil, _Crow_."

_Oh, so that was how he was going to play it_. "Considering how unstable that power is, _Joker_ , we don't know what it'll do to you! It could kill you on the spot!"

"It didn't kill _you_ , did it? We'll end up dead anyways if this keeps up! We don't _have_ any other choice, if you have any better ideas I'm all ears!" 

This is the worst, the absolute worst, a box of chocolates that should never, ever be opened—the sheer unpredictability of one's unchained heart makes his control-obsessed ego uncomfortable with everything he's already seen. He should be convincing Akira about how much a bad idea this is, yet Akira is furiously right as always, what _could_ they do if not borrow Loki's ability now? They are clearly fighting a losing battle, their quality not being able to overtake the opponent's sheer quantity, and. He's done everything until now to survive, from pretending to be a kind human being to committing murder for his de facto boss and father—he hasn't crawled out of poverty with these claws just to become diced meat by shadows, nobody there to even know that insignificant downfall. He hasn't done all that to perish like a nobody.

"Alright," Crow sighs begrudgingly, acknowledging his defeat. "I will. But it's dangerous, and I really can't be sure what it'll do to you. It's different for everybody."

"How did it feel when you did it?" Akira questions curiously, breath coming out in short huffs as he dissipates yet another shadow skillfully. "Just so I can get a feeling, know what to expect."

"Your desire and emotion take the rein," Goro brings the forgotten memories to the surface, remembering how the sheer rage and need for validation had taken over his entire thought process, how his mind had merely become a chant of _Akirakirakirakirakira_ , "so much that everything unrelated to it becomes obliterated in its wake. It becomes your sole, and only focus. The world becomes a fuzz as it becomes your reason for existence."

"Still. It'll give me the strength to protect you, won't it?" Akira gives him a wobbly smile, flattening the creases on his glove. "I'll survive. _You_ have, after all, and I won't lose to you yet."

Akechi laughs shakily, tears springing to his eyes. "You really do surprise me in the most unexpected times, Joker."

The shadows gather around them, and the leader grits his teeth as he grasps his dagger, body tightly coiled, ready to strike. "Let's do this, then."

Goro hasn't used that power in _ages_ , with Joker having forced an embargo upon all and every form of mental breakdowns. He's never _had_ to use them either, with the Phantom Thieves solid behind him as teammates rather than his enemies. So it feels foreign and disturbing as he taps into that source of his strength, the sheer anger and turmoil that enables this ability of his, channeling that darkness into Joker's prone form.

Someone starts screaming. He can't be sure it's Joker or himself—perhaps it's both of them.

The mental assault cedes eventually, the turbulent black aura having moved wholly from him to Akira now, the purple and hideous energy having taken hold of its new victim, an untarnished mind to be hungrily devoured by the grotesque and visceral fury. Goro breathes out shakily, energy draining from him as he channels the last of his strength into that overdrive, only hears Joker's furious screaming from faraway as his mind goes silent from exhaustion. 

Once his head clears up enough to focus, he raises his head gingerly, and given a full sight of a hysterical bloodbath. Joker is unchained as he switches between countless Personas, tearing apart any and all obstruction in their way. Akira's usually composed demeanor has now all been pulverized to dust as he uses both of his blades to mercilessly carve death onto his unfortunate victims, the usually tranquil eyes now entirely capsized to mania, the grey orbs now glowing eerily in the same crimson as the blood of all it consumes. It's beautiful in the most surreal way, like watching a negative film. Goro watches in devoted silence, seeing all of Joker's twisted potential out in plain sight, stays as the silent observer as the massacre plays out in front of him. He feels his eyes come to a gentle close.

He relaxes only until the kougaon bites sharply into his back, forcing the breath out of his barely-standing body and making him collapse on his stomach. He tries to make sense of left and right, trying to shake out of the dizziness brought by the light spell, but all he can do is shudder, debilitated on the floor as the familiar steps echo towards him. He can barely look up, dazed and hurt, to come face to face with the familiar figure of Joker. The shadows are gone, reduced to dust.

"Joker, help me up?" He breathes out hoarsely, yelping in surprise as the sole of the boot presses into his wounds. It hurts, _hurtshurtshurts_ , and he grits his teeth as he tries to move away from the foot. 

" _Traitor_ ," Akira growls. The fevered gleam in his eyes glow threateningly, and Arsene hangs above him, uncharacteristically menacing and powerful, surrounded by the corrupt aura. "Backstabbing whore _bitch_ , pretending to be my friend when you've been planning to kill me all along..."

_What?_ The words don't make sense even in his energy-drained haze, and it hits him: Loki's powers bring out the full rage, the uncontrollable manic side of one's personality, and Akira's too composed, too controlled for such rampage. So it must have locked onto the closest time when Akira has felt such emotion—which, from his words, is the time he learned that Goro was going to betray him, something that's now nothing but a stray memory in both of their lives. He isn't sure whether he should be honored or terrified. 

As Joker's insane and terrifying gaze locks onto him, expression twisting into something inhumane, his breath dies in his throat. Yet maybe he can still make it out alive, because Akira of _today_ loves him, and Goro believes there's a shred of his humanity left in his corrupted form somewhere. Akira didn't kill him _yet_ , after all. Even if he keeps hungrily devouring the sight of Crow in pain like a predator playing around with his prey.

_Play along and act dead until he gets back to normal_.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs confusedly, really not knowing what to say—what _do_ you say when your boyfriend starts taking out a years-old hatchet that you both buried six feet under and forgot about? "I didn't..."

His words only drives Joker's outrage even further. "Excuses, excuses, lies. That's all you can do, can you? Can't even help it, being a filthy traitor," Joker sneers as he kicks Goro's legs in, making him collapse onto his knees. The tang of those crimson leather gloves bite into his tongue as the Trickster spreads his mouth wider with his fingers. "I'll make a better use for it if you can't." 

When he opens his mouth to counteract, Joker grits his teeth and Goro chokes as his mouth and his throat gets completely filled with cock. The cold muzzle of the gun bites into his forehead as Akira huffs, "if you dare to bite me, I'll fucking kill you. Like how you were trying to kill me." 

Goro gags horribly around the shaft, trying to breathe, trying to _live_. It's not that he and Akira haven't had sex before—they have, and he enjoyed, enjoys it—it's just that Akira has always been too composed for any form of rough sex, far too kind and understanding to push any of Goro's set boundaries. Oral had been more of Akira's talent over Goro's, who only ever attempted fellatio and a slight brush of Akira's cockhead against his throat at most. 

Thankfully, rampaging Joker doesn't thrust until his gag reflex finally submits and Akechi stops trembling in his grasp. "This is a nice look on you," Akira hisses precariously as he gives an experimental thrust against the impossibly feverish heat enveloping his cock, "on your knees, where you belong, unable to speak." 

Goro can't do anything, not with how inexperienced he is at this, but Akira doesn't seem to care in this state; completely submerged in his own anger and desire he does all the work himself—grabbing onto Goro's locks and thrusting like how he'd fuck a cheap toy. The gun stays eerily focused on its place, safety flicked off and ready to blow. Crow just holds on, eyes fixed shut, trying to focus on breathing and pushing away the strange feeling coiling around his gut. 

"Fuck," Akira hisses, sounding so close, but then he feels him retract and Goro whines, really _whines_. And he can breathe properly again, his airway finally free from being violated, but when Akira's thick musk hits him he finds himself wanting to be stuffed deeply again. He wanted Akira to come down his throat... 

He doesn't want to psychoanalyze that. Much. This is not a moment for a sexual awakening. 

It must've shown in his expression—or perhaps Akira is far too good at reading his face—because he hears the harsh, degrading laughter from above him as he scoffs, "are you _disappointed_? This is supposed to be punishment, you cockwhore."

Goro can't _help_ himself from enjoying this, and frankly, he doesn't see the problem with it. So he finds the casual charisma and the unusually rough edges of his boyfriend hot, _that's_ not a crime. Joker probably can't handle that information right now, and Crow would rather not take his chances with how the gun is still rubbing against his temple, so he just fixes his eyes down and bites his lips in resistance. Pretending to be affronted by that. He _does_ put a good act, if he may say so himself—years of experience somehow culminating to _this_ , pretending that the sexual act isn't getting him hard as rocks. 

Then Akira steps on his cock, hardly hidden by the Black Mask outfit and obviously hard through the thin layer of nylon, making him gasp wetly. "You are," Joker derides, "always pretending to be a perfect boy for the cameras when _this_ is what you are. Is this why you kept coming back to Leblanc? For a good fuck that puts you back in your place?" 

He kept coming back to Leblanc because he was stupidly smitten with Akira despite the circumstances, but all he does is moan, hoping it is enough to be accepted as an affirmative. Akira's soles dig in even harsher, and it _hurts_ , but there's a sharp spark that travels excitedly down his spine at that pain, making his head dizzy. He can't deny that it feels good, and he starts to rut against—

And the foot disappears as quickly as it came, and his head is being raised by the locks, strands pulled out as Joker drags him up until he's almost standing. Joker's gun still aimed against his temple, Goro bites his lips and doesn't say anything as Akira takes another blade and runs it down his skin, tearing apart his thin layer of protection, making tiny marks on the skin as he goes. Once he's undressed to have his cock out in the cool air, already desperate and leaking precome, Joker carelessly throws his dagger sideways as he slaps the cock _hard_. Goro chokes on his spit as his knees buckle, but Joker catches him, keeping him up at his own leisure. Then, "you don't get to enjoy this," he leers as he feels something rough bite into the base of his cock—his own belts from the outfit, one of the thinner ones looped around the base and the balls. 

Then Joker slaps both his cock and balls again, and this time, watches bemusedly as Goro collapses bonelessly to the floor. Reaches forward to rub the head of his cock against Goro's heated cheeks, smearing a dollop of precome there. Goro looks up, nuzzling it softly, hoping Akira puts it back in his mouth to get off again—he doesn't even care if he's bound, that means it'll only feel so much more fucking better when Akira finally relents and lets him come. If he ever does. He shivers.

"You want it _that_ much?" Joker only sounds amused now, brushing away the locks with the edges of the harsh metal. "Sorry, my cock's too good for a lying mouth like yours. I think I'd rather fuck your ass," he murmurs conversationally, and smirks as he sees Goro's pupils widen, because of course Joker notices. "Finger open your hole for me." 

When he tries to unclasp the claws, Joker moves his feet to step down on them. "Nuh uh, I don't remember letting you do that."

For the first time, Goro genuinely panics. His claws are a _weapon_. It's his final resort, the rose-like splinters capable of tearing down shadows when he's forced into a corner and disarmed. "But—" 

The stepping becomes harsher as the gun makes itself known again, burning a mark into his temple. "You're going to finger open your already gaping ass with that on, and you're going to get off on it. Or else I'll fucking shoot your brains out. _Get to work._ " 

Body shaking in confusion, Goro complies, shuddering as he brings his dominant hand behind him to gently press it in. The first thought he has that it's _cold_ —the metal is freezing compared to his internal body temperature that he can't help but let out a shaky whine at the contrast. Then the thorns start scratching against his inner walls, sharp enough to draw blood, and he tears up. The pain cuts viciously through the haze of exhaustion, chaining him down to the present, cutting off his escape route to dissociation. 

"How does it feel?" Joker questions hungrily, merciless as he continues to grind down harshly against his teammate's groin. 

" _Hurts_ ," he chokes out, because he's too tired to keep up the tough guy act and finger himself open at the same time. He shoves in another finger, and the motion grinds the piercing metal of his claws, forcing the fragment deeper into his skin. 

"Good, it's what you deserve." 

Liquid begins to gather and drip along the lines of his palm, gathering into a pool under him. Considering how they haven't used lube, there's only one that can be, and Goro's mind enters a form of trance once he realize that he's becoming slicker through his own _blood_. His mind goes hazy with anemia, movements turning sluggish as he swivels heedlessly on his knees. 

What would Joker do, not Akira but _Joker_ , if Goro fainted right now? Would he, having lost interest, leave him to become shadow feed, or would he personally grab onto his neck to put his prey-toy out of commission for not even being able to entertain him? Perhaps his loss of consciousness be the key that finally snaps Joker out of his red-vision anger. Goro can't be sure, with how the only case of having cast that spell on a Persona user had been his own example, and his circumstances and Akira's are far too different for a proper comparison. 

It would be fitting for Akira to be his end, though. If Goro was dying in the depths of Mementos, it just feels right to die by Joker's hand.

—Suddenly the heavy weight is lifted off his shoulder as the luminous azure light surrounds him, and Goro gasps as his wounds all close up instantly. Diaraharn. "Can't have you die on me, I'm not finished with you," Joker speaks up behind him, an angel hovering behind him.

"Thank you, Joker," he gives a wobbly smile, which in reply Joker merely huffs and signals his partner to start fingering himself properly again. 

Goro groans and tries moving his fingers still buried in his ass. The splinters of his gloves dig into his sensitive flesh, two digits pushed in deep between the globes, tearing into the just-healed flesh. Fuck, it hurts, but his cock still jumps in a deranged sense of satisfaction as fresh blood trail down his thighs. It's starting to make a wet, disgusting rhythm of squelching now, a sound that more resembles removing a piece of glass out of wounded skin over fingering. Joker doesn't seem to care, though, his gaze hooded with lust and mouth twisted up in a comfortable smirk.

Could Goro fight his way out? Certainly Akira is more flexible and aware of his buttons, but Goro's just been healed; despite the dwindling spirit, his strength has always lay in his physical attacks, and he's sure he could put up a fight. Although losing would most likely mean death for good, it's more than a fifty-fifty chance—higher, if counting the fact that Akira would snap out of his fury with a little beating.

Now, does he _want_ to get out of this situation?

His metallic fingers push against that spot that makes him see stars, and the pain only amplifies the pleasure tenfold that he nearly comes despite the tight ring, body giving in and doubling over. Akira catches him with his feet, kicks him back to an upright kneeling position. 

"God, I didn't expect you to enjoy this, but you _are_ ," Joker leers inauspiciously. "Maybe you should apply for a new job as my fucktoy instead, _Akechi-kun_. It'd make you a lot happier," Joker crows, and Goro shivers. 

"You're so fucking pretty it pissed me off sometimes, but if I knew you were like this I would have grabbed you by the collar and fucked you _far_ sooner," then Joker's gun that has been sitting against his temple is forced against his lips, and when his mouth falls apart for a question, Joker immediately uses that hesitation to press the barrel down further into the crevice. 

The smell of gunpowder is overwhelming and the push of sharp-cut metal is unforgiving against his teeth, and Joker under the effect of Loki's spell is merciless as he forcefully shoves the weapon deeper and deeper into Goro's mouth, leaving more bruises and scratches. It brushes against the back of his throat at every push, the muzzle grinding against his uvula.

This close he can see that the handgun is still loaded, the bullets recovered now that the battle is over. The safety is flicked off. The crimson-clad finger is caressing the trigger softly, accentuating the power he holds over his fallen teammate.

A single shot can end him right now, splatter his skull and brains against the pavement and end his miraculously-continued existence. Akechi Goro, who once had been the sole free-spirited traveler of the cognitive realms, can now only drool uselessly and widen his mouth even further in the hopes that it'd stop the steel from bruising his inner skin more than it already has. 

"I think that's enough," Joker hisses as he finally removes the harsh barrel from Goro's mouth, allowing him to finally swallow without the intrusion. " _You're_ quiet."

_You're talkative enough for both of us combined_. Strange, because Akira was always quiet and brooding, being the silent overseer and the stoic leader of the team, the therapist for all of the Phantom Thieves. He wonders just how long this need has been repressed within Akira; his wish to talk, to tell his side of the story. Even if anger had blinded his vision, twisted that ardent need into something more vicious and hazardous.

"I have a lot to think about," Goro counters hoarsely. 

"I'm not doing a good enough job, then," Joker's tone has taken a turn to amusement, which the ex-detective finds favorable over raw fury. "Up you come," Akira signals, still under the spell but not unkindly, and Goro rises sluggishly to his feet to present his stretched ass to Akira, shaking as he retracts his own digits from his hole, biting his lips to not let a moan escape.

Akira's fingers slide in easily, his hole so loose and sticky from the blood flowing freely down. Joker's crimson leather gloves are so soft compared to Goro's own barbed claws, almost a caress against his torn flesh but Goro knows better to relax under their faux-gentle ministrations when Joker is like _this_ , eyes rolled back behind to his skull in mania. As if not let Crow's vigilance down, those fleeting fingers dig in deeper into one of the worse wounds, forcing out a wet gasp from his prey. The sadistic glee manifesting on those sharp grey eyes are so uncharacteristic yet they cannot be any more appropriate, an oxymoron in and of itself.

_He always had the potential to become this. Yet unlike you, Akira merely chose not to let it devour him_.

The head of Akira's cock rubs against Goro's tattered entrance—when he took off his pants Goro can't remember, his head is too fuzzy to make sense of anything anymore, but it's not from the pain but from _something else_ —and he only hears Joker's smirk as he feels the shaft sinks in smoothly with a single thrust, bottoming out instantly. And oh, Akira is feverish-hot compared to the fingers before and it feels _good_ somehow that he can't help himself from letting out a little sigh of relief, world going grey as he rocks his hips, nudging that head against his prostate.

"You're enjoying this," Joker's eyes glow playful under the harsh Mementos lighting, his voice strained by pleasure. Akira's rhythm is ruthless as he fucks up into him, the leather gloves digging into his exposed ass as he takes Goro how he would use a doll, a sex toy created for this very purpose. Dragging Akechi's ass up and down forcefully as he cants his hips up to drag his cock as deep as he can, not even caring that his partner is hardly responsive.

_Yes, you are my boyfriend, it's natural that I'd enjoy this. The fact you can't process that information right now isn't my fault_. Goro makes a whimpering sound instead, tightening himself around Akira's ass, finding that he is enjoying this despite the roughness of it all. No, the atypical cruelness of Joker only _adds_ to his orgasm, the deviation that should be terrifying only intoxicating and alluring in its own, twisted way. He supposes it shouldn't be much a surprise: Akechi Goro, fucked up human being from birth to now enjoying being slapped around and used like an object over treated like a human being.

Goro wonders if Akira would find him disgusting for taking pleasure in this once he comes to his senses, then Joker snaps his hips exactly so that he's grinding against his prostate and it suddenly feels as if none of it is relevant. It becomes difficult to focus on anything that isn't now, the voices in his head fading to a silent echo as his world converges to Akira's desperate growls and his needy thrusts, the pulsing heat of want splitting his body in half.

It's all very disorientating and addicting. He thinks he could get used to this, soul devoured by intense desire. Akira overflowing every one of his senses until they all go numb and all he can do is receive. It's heady. His eyes loll behind their skull as he moans, and Joker's harsh laughter echoes distantly behind him.

"Let's use your other hole, too," Akira groans, and a part of Goro is now glad that the rage is now nowhere to be heard, emotion wholly replaced by the need. Then his head is being forced down, something far thicker than Akira's cock entering his mouth, and his eyes fly open in panic to see Arsene's intense fire burning in front of his very eyes. He grunts in surprise, but Akira pushes him nonchalantly down that colossal length and his throat eventually relaxes to receive it. Joker's low rumble of twisted praise echoes just behind him and he shuts his eyes tightly to swallow around the intense intrusion, feeling the claws of Joker's Persona knead his locks. He remains dead still as both Joker and Arsene make good use of his body, the human thrusting more erratically with his orgasm just by the brink, and the Persona shifting its cock only barely to rub against the back of Goro's throat with shallow movement.

Suspended between them, he finds himself blanking out. It feels like the world is muffled by a blanket, like there's something between his brain and his five senses, like there's a thick opaque glass surrounding his mind. It should be terrifying, the loss of control and focus that he prides himself in, but it's remarkably nice, feels like he's no longer chained by his own lowly mortal body, floating freely across the air. Something nudges harder against him, and someone—must be Akira, there's only Akira with him—mumbles something against his skin but he can't focus, now completely subdued by whatever this is and the world fades away to blissful white and Goro...

* * *

When Akira comes back to consciousness again, he's sprawled on the pavement and his _entire body aches_. He coughs, habitually scanning the entire room for danger, and silently thanks Igor when there are no shadows in the corner of his eyes preparing for assault. Relaxing a bit now that safety is ensured, he rubs his sore body, rubbing his eyes to let the situation properly sink in.

Then he realizes what he's _done_. The insanity, the rage, and all that's come after. Akira feels the blood drain out of his face as he groggily rises from his spot on the floor, immediately reaching for his fallen teammate.

"Crow?" Joker shouts, finding the mismatch of blue and black in the corner of the room, and Goro sprawled on top of the ruined outfit drenched in come. He feels dread sink into his stomach as everything he's done returns piece by piece into his mind, and he swiftly summons Raphael to cast diaraharn on his fallen teammate. "Oh god, Akechi! _Goro_!"

Crow doesn't show any sign that he's recognized Akira's words. The raven feels his blood go cold, his worst fears crashing down on him, mind a chant of _you can't die_ ** _here_** _despite everything we've been through, come on_. He collects Goro's tattered body—there's blood, there's just _so much blood_ , and it's all his goddamn fault—into his arms and cradles Goro's face close to as he raises a shaky hand to fiercely search for a pulse. Thankfully he doesn't have to wait that much. Akechi makes a weak hiccuping sound, head craning against Joker's worn-down gloves. Akira lets out a choke of surprise, then lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Oh thank god, you're still alive."

"J'ker?" Goro asks, voice slurred and motion sluggish. His eyes come to a gradual open, but they're off-focus and delirious. Akira wonders if this is caused by all the blood loss, but Goro doesn't seem distressed, just addled.

"Not now, it's Akira," he murmurs warmly, hoping that the emotion passes through to his head if the words don't.

"'Kira," Goro purrs dazedly, cradling his cheeks close to the crimson gloves. The eyes flutter close as Goro makes another kittenish sound in his throat. "Soft... Tired."

Oh god, he's _adorable_. Akira has a weak concept of what's happening, and a part of him wonders why, why now, why while _that_. But before he can bring it up, not that Akechi is in any position to explain with how deeply dredged in subspace he is, he feels a mass of shadows gathering nearby. His SP is in even worse condition now, and if there would be another mass assault like last time, they'd really end up as nothing but ground meat. Nudging Goro's prone body, he affectionately murmurs, "it's dangerous here, honey. Let's nap at home."

"Home," Goro doesn't even bother standing, just clings onto Akira tighter. "take me?"

"Alright, hold on tightly, then," Akira smiles as he stands up with Goro still clinging onto him like a koala, and rushes towards the nearest safe room, away from any danger that could possibly separate them. They would need to talk, but they have all time in the world now. 

**Author's Note:**

> twitter  
> not horny: @tsunbrownie  
> horny lockdown: @blackmaskfucker
> 
> HAHA im reading all the comments here but i get Very Nervous about replying to them so,...., ,.,., if u wanna interact w me feel free to hit me up on my twitter(s)!


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